


Damian Wayne's Ninja Boot Camp

by Zanganito



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Case Fic, Family, Family Drama, Gen, Humor, Martial Arts, POV Third Person Limited, POV Tim Drake, Puns & Word Play, bat training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanganito/pseuds/Zanganito
Summary: Damian discovers a way to both help out at the Manor and torture his brothers.  Mostly the latter.





	1. Chapter 1

"Father," Damian shouted over the breakfast table one morning. It had been peaceful up until Damain had arisen from his room like Talia from her crypt, and stomped down the stairs to demand that Alfred feed him.

Tim took a bite of Alfred's pancakes and groaned. The little hellion was up to no good, and Tim wished he'd settled for a quick bowl of sugary cereal earlier. Then he could have eaten his breakfast in peace. But then he would have contended with Alfred's sighing over his breakfast choices. Alfred's sighs could be very expressive, and the one he most often made when Tim was choosing his morning meal could best be translated as: 'You Can Certainly Eat Whatever You Want, Master Timothy, But I Spent All Morning Making Pancakes and Cutting Strawberries Into Animal Shapes, And All You Children Ever Eat Is Stale Sugar Coated Garbage. Would It Really Inconvenience You So Much to Eat a Healthy Meal For Once In Your Life?'

So…yeah. Tim was still stuck at the breakfast table, since he couldn't deal with an Alfred guilt trip right now. Plus Alfred's pancakes were the best, and the strawberries were shaped like kittens and bunnies.

"Father!" Damian repeated, pounding his silverware on the table, and leaving an indentation that made Alfred wince.

"Damian, no denting the furniture before breakfast," Bruce said absentmindedly while sipping his coffee.

"You're nearly as well-mannered a young man as Master Bruce used to be at your age, Master Damian," Alfred observed.

"Hey-" Bruce said, looking unsure whether Alfred had just insulted him. In Bruce's defense, he hadn't yet finished his first cup of coffee.

"Father!"

"Uh, what?" Bruce asked, finally turning to face his son, who glared angrily in his direction.

"Father, everyone's training here leaves much to be desired. With the exception of Cassandra."

"Ha, I bet Cassie beat you up!" Tim said through a mouthful of pancake. Now that he would pay to see. It probably hadn't been all that exciting though, not in the traditional sense. Damian and Cassie had probably ninja-stared at each other for an hour until Damian finally flinched or something.

"Don't be absurd, Drake. Just because she is the only member of the household with adequate training doesn't mean she can defeat me."

Tim smirked and sat back in his seat. "Oh yeah, Cass definitely beat you. How long did it take before you lost?"

"Silence, Drake. Don't insult your betters."

"Hey, I trained with Shaolin monks once," Tim protested.

Damian sneered. "Really, Drake. I doubt it. Or if you did, I'm sure they only gave you the watered down 'tourist' training."

"We all have Batman training, we don't need Demon Spawn training."

"Who doesn't need training?" Dick asked as he sat down at the table with a plate of eggs, bacon, pancakes, the rest of the animal-shaped fruit, and sausage.

It was at that moment Tim knew he was doomed. Doomed to an undetermined time of demon spawn training, that would most likely only end in his death. Maybe he should start carving an epitaph on his tombstone now: Here lies Tim Drake, trained to death by a Demonic Ninja Brat.

"Grayson! I've been trying to tell father that the training at the manor is inadequate."

Dick laughed and ruffled Damian's hair. "Is it? Let me guess, you're offering to fix it?"

Anyone else would have gotten a knife in their side, but Damian proved he had at least partially warmed up to Dick by simply scowling and straightening his hair. "Yes, I've already come up with a training schedule that we can begin to implement this weekend."

Tim groaned and rolled his eyes. Dick had a huge soft spot for Damian, and never took anything the demon said seriously, not even death threats.

"Sounds like fun. We can always use more training."

"But…..not Demon Spawn Ninja Assassin training!" Tim sputtered, hoping desperately that Bruce might intervene.

"Aw, Tim, but it'd be so cute. And a good learning experience for little D to be in charge."

Damian folded his arms and smirked directly at Tim. "Father!" he shouted again, hitting a pitch that could nearly be classified as a demonic shriek. "We can keep Grayson. He at least is trainable. Drake and Todd are lost causes, and blights upon the family name. I think you should evict them from the manor at once."

"See! See what he does?" Tim shouted. "It's not about trying to help anyone get better, Demon Spawn just wants any excuse at all to get rid of me or kill me!"

Dick patted Damian's shoulder. "Aw, Dami, you don't really mean that. You won't have as many people to train if they leave."

"Besides, if anyone left, it's more likely to be the other way around," Tim mumbled under his breath. Demon Brat gave him a vicious glare, but Tim just shrugged. It was no secret Dick still had an apartment in Bludhaven, even if it was likely currently classified as a biohazard. And Dick was the most likely to get in an argument with Bruce. Jason was the next likely to leave, but none of them were even sure whether or not Jason was living here anyway.

"No-ones getting evicted," Bruce grumbled around his piece of toast.

"Father!" Damian shouted again.

Bruce slammed a fist on the table. "All right, that's enough arguing. Everyone eat your breakfast."

-x-

* * *

Tim decided that he would save his life the only way he knew how – pack a few things, escape out the window, and spend a few weeks with someone else, maybe Superman. Hopefully Demon Spawn wouldn't be on the warpath and would forget the whole ordeal by then.

What he hadn't counted on was Dick's disappointed look when Tim just had one foot outside.

"Tim," he said, scrunching his eyebrows up. "I know you and Damian don't always get along, but you have to give him a chance."

Tim inched his foot out onto the roof. Maybe if he left really slowly we wouldn't feel the weight of his older brother's disappointment as much. "What? A chance to kill me?"

Dick sighed. "I know he can be a handful sometimes-"

" _Sometimes_?"

"-but if you cut him off before he even has a chance to try, or always expect the worst of him, things won't change."

"Yeah, no thanks. I enjoy being alive." Tim leaned towards the roof again. Only five more feet and a drop into Alfred's shrubbery to freedom. Prickly freedom, but Tim had survived worse.

"Even if it gets bad, you know none of us would really let you get hurt. Even Damian wouldn't really hurt you. He sees you as his little rival, you're the closest to him in age, so he's trying to do better than you. It's cute really."

Tim's eye twitched. Cute? Cute as an angry nest full of paper wasps. On the other hand, Kori probably thought paper wasps were cute. Dick was definitely spending too much time with her.

"Besides, no matter how much you know, you can always benefit from more training. Aren't you at least curious to see a few League of Assassins training techniques?"

Tim bit his lip, and wobbled in the window. Sure he would have no problem with a few League of Assassins lessons, if anyone else in the world had offered to teach them.

"If it goes well, I can try to talk Bruce into letting each of us run a training class for the others."

Tim considered the possibilities. It _could_ be fun to be in charge. Maybe it'd be fun to train Dick and Cassie. Jason and Damian would likely question his every word and make training them hell on Earth. Tim paled at the thought of Jason having a turn being in charge. "Do you really want Jason training Damian?"

Dick winced. "Uh, well obviously Bruce would have final say over what we actually learn."

Tim knew it was unfair to push, but his life was at stake. "Would _you_ let Jason be in charge?"

There was a definite flinch at the words, and Tim started mentally congratulating himself. Saved by his own intelligence. Hallelujah. Tim loved being smart.

But unfortunately, he had underestimated how much of a martyr his oldest brother could be.

Dick sighed. "It wouldn't be ideal, but yeah, everyone should get a chance. Even Jason."

Tim snorted and stared at Dick dubiously.

"And maybe if you let Damian be in charge for a few days, he won't feel the need to act out so much to try and prove himself to you."

"What, so I'm supposed to make all the sacrifices?"

Dick lightly punched his arm. "Part of being a family, kiddo. We all have to take turns helping each other."

Tim guiltily remembered all the times Dick had stayed late to teach him special back flip landings that had taken forever to master. He hesitated in the window for one more second, then sighed and jumped back down into his room. "Fine, I'll give it a try."

And just like that, Tim was guilt-tripped into walking freely to his own death. Maybe he should add that part to his tombstone.

-x-

* * *

Two hours later, Dick had apparently guilt-tripped almost everyone in the manor to attend Damian's training class. Or maybe Jason was hoping to teach the next class, Tim wasn't sure. But from the scowl on Jason's face he looked to be at least as unhappy as Tim to be there. In fact, he looked about ready to climb back into the Lazarus pit and be done with everything. Bruce was texting on his phone, and only Dick and Cassie looked excited over the impending training.

They were gathered on the back lawn, since Demon-Brat had snidely informed them that they wouldn't be training in a climate-controlled room like weaklings. Helllspawn now stood in the middle of the group, tiny fists on his waist.

"To warm up, everyone is going to carry two five-gallon buckets of water around the manor. After you finish your twenty laps, I'll measure the amount of water missing, and you'll have to complete five extra minutes of training for every milliliter missing."

Cassie nodded, picked up two buckets filled with water, and began running around the manor.

"That's mixing metric and standard," Tim piped up.

"And anyone who questions my authority will be given one extra bucket."

"If _you're_ wrong, _we_ get punished? How are we supposed to carry three buckets?"

"You won't have to carry three Drake, since you'll be carrying five."

"Make me," Tim said, and very maturely stuck his tongue out. He knew this would end a disaster, why pretend it was anything else?

Bruce looked upset, Dick looked about ready to tear his hair out, and Jason was doubled over laughing.

"Grayson!" Damian raged. "I'm in charge, force Drake to obey me!"

"Dami," Dick said, placing a hand on Demon Spawn's shoulder. "Maybe you should go a little easier on your students the first day. Save the punishments until they know what to expect from you."

Demon Brat's face twisted in rage. "Fine. But only because you request it, and only if Drake apologizes for his transgression by groveling at my feet."

Oh, that was so not happening. Tim walked over and picked up two of the buckets. "Sorry for bruising your fragile ego," he snarked.

"Tim…" Dick groaned.

"What, I'm starting my training, what more do you want?" Tim almost felt guilty about leaving Dick and Bruce to deal with the little hellion as he carried his buckets and started trudging around the manor. Almost. Those buckets were damn heavy.

-x-

* * *

In his defense, Tim had fully intended to complete the training to the best of his ability. But unfortunately, Jason slowed down ahead of him, then suddenly turned and 'accidentally' kicked one of Tim's buckets, sloshing at least a gallon onto the ground, Tim then set both buckets on the ground and gave Jason a giant shove. "Watch where you're going, Jay."

Jason easily stepped to the side and dropped his empty buckets.

"Jason, what-"

"Please, do you really think I'm going to let Demon Spawn boss me around?" Jason grinned and kicked over one of Tim's buckets. "I emptied mine as soon as I was out of sight. As long as we empty everyone else's bucket, we can't be singled out."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute. There's no 'we'. I never agreed to this, you just kicked over my bucket, and if I tell Dick or Bruce, they're gonna be pissed at you." It wasn't as though Tim really cared about completing the training, but he had promised Dick he'd at least try, and it was totally unfair that Jason was the one to sabotage him, and it wasn't as if Tim _wanted_ to make this debacle even worse. "Things are difficult enough already without you stirring the pot. Are you trying to piss off Dick and Bruce? Are you trying to get me murdered by Demon Brat?"

"Suit yourself, Drama Queen Timberly." Jason cackled evilly, then disappeared into the bushes, probably to lie in wait for Bruce or Dick.

Tim threw his emptied bucket at Jason's retreating form, because of course he was not a drama queen. If anyone in the family was a drama queen, it was zombie Jason who had only recently decided to stop trying to kill them all.

After retrieving his bucket from a prickly shrub, Tim paused for a moment. Maybe that was the true purpose of the drill? It was a League of Assassins training technique after all. The point could be to sabotage the others. Tim sighed and emptied the remaining water out of his bucket. At least now it was easier. And it wasn't like Demon Brat could punish him any more once all the water was gone.

-x-

* * *

At the end of the drill, only Cassie had full buckets of water. Jason had evilly waited until the very end to trip Bruce and Dick, and they sheepishly placed their almost emptied buckets next to Tim and Jason's dry buckets.

"There sure were a lot of tree roots around," Dick said, giving Jason a dirty look.

"Yes, I noticed that too. I'll have Alfred look into it," Bruce grumbled, also glancing at Jason. "Hopefully we won't have the same problem tomorrow."

Damian turned beet red. "Father, Grayson, how could you be so clumsy? I expected such incompetence from Drake and Todd, but I see only Cassandra is competent. The rest of you will need even more remedial training."

-x

* * *

They spent the next three hours practicing kicks and jumps. Damian practiced with them for a little while, and if they had stopped at that, maybe Tim would have been able to forgive him. But no, Demon Spawn still had more pain planned for them today.

As they finished up kicking, Damian brought out a pile of bricks and a staff. "Since four of you couldn't even pass the water bucket test, I am giving you a simple exercise and allowing you to use bricks instead of bowls of water.

"Are we balancing the bricks on the staff?" Tim asked hopefully.

Damian sneered at Tim. "No Drake. You'll have to earn the right to do something that fun. This exercise will help you improve your abysmal leg strength."

Jason made a coughing noise, and Tim rolled his eyes. At least they would have to stop sometime soon to have time for dinner before patrol.

Damian walked back to the pile of bricks. "I'll have Grayson demonstrate, since at least he can be competent some of the time."

Dick laughed as if Damian was only joking, and settled into a squat, with his thighs parallel to the ground and arms level. Damian then stacked bricks on Dick's legs and arms.

"The point of the exercise is to hold your pose and don't move," Damian said, picking up the staff. "Hopefully, even a simpleton like Drake will be able to understand the concept." Damian paused and glanced over at Cassie. "Cassandra does not have to participate, but she can if she wishes to."

Bruce started settling into a squat, glancing over at Damian with a confused look. "How long do you expect your students to hold the pose, Damian? And you haven't used the staff yet."

"One hour should be sufficient," Spawn of Satan said. "And I haven't used the staff yet since Grayson hasn't messed up. It's for hitting students, surely you could figure that one out, father."

"Oh _hell no_ ," Tim shouted, throwing his hands up in the air and edging away. "If you think I'm going to let that little psychopath beat me-" And certainly Demon Spawn would pick on Tim the most. It was probably all part of his demonic plan.

"Yeah, I'm done too," Jason said shrugging and walking towards the manor.

"You can't just leave!" Damian bellowed. "Father, make them stay!"

Bruce scratched the back of his neck. "Damian, it's been a long day, maybe now would be a good stopping point. We all need to eat and get ready for patrol."

"Father, surely you don't expect to allow anyone but Cassandra to eat. None of the rest have earned it."

Bruce sighed and held his head in his hands. "Damian…"

"Bruce is right," Dick said, voice sounding strained. "This is a good stopping point for today."

"Don't move, Grayson. At least I can have one student complete today's training."

Tim paused, shook his head then turned back towards the manor. No, there was no way he was going to think about the implications of this being easy League of Assassins training and feel sorry for Demon Spawn. No way at all.

"Hey, Tim! Ask Alfred if he's serving peas with dinner. I'd like a peas-ful meal."

Tim groaned and facepalmed.

"Grayson! Focus!" Damian raged, whacking him with the staff in a few places where the bricks shook.

Dick chuckled and gazed at Damian fondly, as if he had found a particularly cute baby scorpion to play with. ("But Tim, look how cute it is; it's got tiny little pinchers and it's trying to sting. D'aw.") Tim didn't care how cute or tiny any arachnids were. Venomous things were venomous, no matter the size. Dick had _definitely_ been spending too much time with Kori.

"This is no time for your wordplay," Demon Brat huffed.

A huge smile spread across Dick's face. The kind of smile that meant he was planning an even worse pun. "Hey, Tim! Tell Alfred we need more thyme to season our meal too."

"Dami…Ow! Hey!" There was a pause while Dick caught his breath. And then, since he never shut up ever, he continued. "I guess you could say the pun-ishment fits the crime."

Tim hurried inside before he could be subjected to even more terrible puns.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late when they assembled at the cave to get ready for patrol.  Mostly because Demon-Brat’s training had run late, and Dick was notorious for taking forever in the shower.  Styling his long hair probably took another half-hour at least.

 

“Your hair seems to be getting long for crime-fighting,” Batman said gruffly, while passing Nightwing.

 

Nightwing glared back. “It hasn’t been getting in my way.”

 

Batman ignored Nightwing’s glare, and continued trying to burn bridges between them like a certain pyromaniac recently escaped from Arkham.  “I doubt it’s very aerodynamic.  Have you considered adding a cowl to your outfit?”

 

Nightwing scowled and left for Bludhaven with a roar of the Nightcycle, long locks flying behind him as he left the cave.

 

Next Jason swung a leg over his red hoodcycle.  Tim eyed his own motorcycle, wishing he was edgy enough to make a dramatic exit like his brother.

 

“We’ll all be traveling in the Batmobile tonight,” Batman said, effectively dashing Tim’s hopes of not spending part of the evening cooped up with Ninja Brat. “Poison Ivy mentioned we need to be more environmentally conscious, and I agree.”

 

“We’re taking advice from super-villains now?” Tim said, still eyeing his cherry red motorcycle.

 

“We need to be role models for the other citizens.  What message does it send if we don’t all carpool?”

 

“Um, that we don’t live together?”  Tim snarked.

 

“Don’t be moronic, Drake,” Damian said.  “Everyone in Gotham already knows Batman and Robin travel together.”

 

“It won’t be every night,”  Batman said. “Just once in a while when it makes sense.”

 

“Motorcycles are eco-friendly, and the Batmobile is electric anyway,”  Tim tried. “You even let Nightwing take the Nightcycle.”

 

“Nightwing has to patrol in Bludhaven,”  Batman pointed out, then frowned at Jason.  “Since you’re staying in Gotham with us tonight, there’s no need for the Red Hood to travel separately.”  He paused to check his batcommunicator.  “There’s been three reported break-ins tonight, all at coffee houses.  I thought we could investigate together.”

 

“Someone isn’t a morning person?”  Tim quipped.  In all likelihood, if someone was targeting coffee houses, there was about a 26% chance it was a (former) disgruntled employee, a 10% chance it was coincidence, a 20% chance it was related to a scientist/engineer/meta/robot fueled by coffee, and a 44% chance a supervillain was starting out on a themed crime spree. 

 

Jason folded his arms in front of his jacket.  “Mysterious break-ins?  That’s more Sherlock Timbo’s specialty.  I have other things I need to do.”

Damian sneered.  “Like running your crime empire?”

 

“We can pack the motorcycles in the Batmobile,” Batman continued, ignoring his youngest son.  “That way if we need to split up, we can.”  He dragged a gloved hand alongside his face.  “Jason … if you have illegal errands to run, just, don’t let me know about it.”

 

 Jason flushed and grumbled then pulled on his hood.

 

“Really, Todd, you should find different accommodations.  You’re no better than adults who live in their parent’s basements.”  Damian folded his arms, and gave Jason his best Ninja-Brat Trained by League of Assassins glare.

 

Tim rolled his eyes.  “We _all_ fight crime in Bruce’s basement.”

 

Damian lifted his chin haughtily.  “You and Todd are overgrown parasites-”

 

“Bruce!”  Tim shouted.           

 

“That’s enough,”  Batman snapped.  “Focus, we have work to do.”

 

Damian kicked the door of the Batmobile on his way in, and leaned back with a pout. 

 

Tim sighed and piled into the back of the Batmobile with Damian, who immediately tried to pin Tim’s cape to the seat with a batarang. 

 

“Cut it out, Demon,” Tim hissed, wishing he had managed to trade places with Nightwing.  Not that he was close enough yet to being able to impersonate Dick, but someday maybe he could.  And Damian was so much more manageable when Dick was around.  At least then, Demon Brat had to pretend to make an effort to get along with his siblings.

 

Cassandra gave Jason a death glare, then curled up in the front seat.

 

Jason briefly grumbled, then plopped down in the backseat of the Batmobile between Tim and Damian, effectively interrupting their cape war.

 

“What the hell, Jay!  You’re too big!”  Tim screeched as one of Jason’s thighs pushed him into the door.

 

Jason just chuckled, then relaxed his limbs, squishing Tim and Damian against opposite windows.

 

“Todd, get off me now, or go on a diet!”

 

“Diet?  You’re just jealous, midgets,” Jason said, sounding way too amused under his helmet as he stretched out even more.

 

“Code names while we’re on patrol,” Batman rasped from the front as he adjusted the rearview mirror.

 

“Can’t Black Bat sit back here instead?”  Tim begged as he struggled not to be crushed under his brother’s weight.

 

“Pft, ask her yourself, Shrimp.” 

 

“You can…fight me for the front seat,”  Cassie said, glancing back from her seat of luxurious extra space.

 

They all grumbled and groaned, but no one challenged Cassie.  Then they rode in silence for approximately five minutes, until Damian started shoving at Jason’s giant thigh again.

 

“Demon spawn, stop picking on your formerly deceased brother.”

 

“We are not related, and if you continue in your thuggish ways, Hood, there will soon be no need to use the word ‘formerly’ in your description.”

 

Tim bit back a laugh, then yelped as Jason elbowed him in the ribs.  “Ow, Hood!”  He turned and scowled at his brother.  “C’mon, you have to admit, that was a good one.”

 

Damian sneered and folded his arms.  “See, even Red Robin occasionally acknowledges my superiority.”

 

“It wasn’t THAT good,”  Tim grumbled.  “More like B-list villain dialogue.  On the upside, if you ever become a supervillain, you might not need a ghost-writer.”

 

“If?”  Jason asked.  “Demon Spawn is already about halfway to villain at least.” He cocked his head.  “More like half-way reformed from a mini-villain.”

 

“You…would know,”  Cassie snarked from the front seat.

 

“Ouch!  Destroyed!”  Tim yelled.  Jason would almost need another dip in the Lazarus pit to recover from a burn that severe.

 

“I’m nothing like Hood,” Damian growled, taking out a batarang to stab into Jason’s leg.

“Ow, fuck!”  Jason said, shoving at Damian’s hands.

“Language!”  Batman growled from the front seat.

 

“Robin is trying to injure me before patrol even starts!”  Jason complained, throwing his arms out and leaning forward.

 

“I’ve barely even put a dent in your armor,” Damian pointed out. “Honestly, you whine more than Red Robin sometimes.”

 

“Robin, put your weapons away,”  Batman rasped.

 

Damian scowled, but did as he was told.

-x-

 

The first coffee-house they stopped at was a Mr. Coffee, labeled with bright yellow rounded letters over a small brick building.

Tim clawed his way out of the backseat when they arrived, never more relieved to step out of a vehicle in his life.  Batman gave them all a quick batglare, before striding forward to meet commissioner Gordon. 

 

“It’s clean,”  Gordon said, running a hand down his face.  “I’ve had my people go through.  No prints, no hair, no dust, nothing to even show anyone has been here, except for a picked lock, missing security footage, and a few hundred pounds of missing coffee beans.”

 

“Hnn,” Batman grunted as he swept past Gordon.  “And the others are the same?”

 

“Yes, that’s why I called you.  It’s not vandalism, and it’s not robbery- not a conventional one anyway.”

 

Tim scurried to keep up with Batman, and followed him into the shop.

 

-x-

 

Just as Gordon had said, it was clean inside.  The register was untouched, not a pane in the door window was cracked.  The only item missing was the entire inventory of coffee.  Batman left the motorcycles, and drove off with Damian and Cassie to check out the other shops, while Tim and Jason stayed behind to investigate.

 

Tim hacked into the computer and started searching through the inventory, to see if anything else was missing, or out of place.  The whole store still smelled so deliciously of roast beans that Tim reached for a non-existent cup as he scrolled through one of the manager’s spreadsheets.  His eye twitched.  “Isn’t there a level of hell where you have to smell coffee, but can’t have any?”  Tim muttered while wishing that Reginald III was more organized.

 

“Pft, don’t insult the classics, R.”  Jason leaned forward annoyingly and started reading over Tim’s shoulder.  “So Reggie had 700 lbs of coffee, and he bought most of it three months ago.” Jason stood up.  “And back to your idea of a personal hell, does that mean you’re a glutton for coffee?”

 

Tim scowled briefly.  “It’s more a necessity.  But our new friend, whoever they may be, just might be a glutton for coffee.”

 

Jason stretched his shoulders until they popped.  “It’s probably a new villain.  Coffee-Man or something.”

 

Tim frowned.  “Or it could be an established villain, trying a new scheme.”

 

“Maybe Poison Ivy is making a statement on coffee consumption?”

 

Tim hummed and tapped his chin. “Possible.  But it’s not her style.”  The lack of giant vines taking over the building was a huge hint that it wasn’t Ivy.

 

“Didn’t she say she was turning over a new leaf?”  Jason leaned back against the counter, probably smirking under his helmet.

 

Tim groaned and face-palmed.  “I thought I was getting a break from puns tonight.”

 

Jason scoffed and flung a Styrofoam cup and sugar packet at Tim’s head.  “You live in Gotham.  Face it, you’ve pretty much signed up for being exposed to bad jokes and terrible fashion sense constantly, whether or not Nightwing is around.”

 

Tim caught the sugar packet and frowned.  “Why stop at coffee and leave the sugar alone?  If this was Ivy, wouldn’t she also throw a tantrum over the disposable cups?”  While coffee production did contribute to deforestation, it wasn’t the only culprit.

 

Jason pushed himself away from the counter.  “Good point, R, but if it’s not Ivy, who else could it be?  Aside from a villain we’ve never heard of, or maybe an Arkham escapee found out how dependent on coffee vigilantes are.”

 

If it was a super-villain, 80% of the time they’d leave a clue, something to taunt Batman, to be found eventually, but not before they completed their nefarious scheme.  Tim frowned, remembering his plan to grab as much free coffee tomorrow with Stephanie.  “Tomorrow is International Coffee Day.  It can’t be a coincidence.”  Tim stood up swiftly and started searching around the office.  “The calendar, Hood, if it’s Riddler he might leave his riddle on the calendar.  If it’s-”

 

“If it’s the Joker, we’ll find out when he starts demanding an interview with Batman,” Jason snarked.

 

Tim found the calendar.  National coffee day was highlighted, but there were no other marks for September. 

 

“Oh well.  It was a nice thought, Sherlock Robin.”

 

Tim exhaled heavily as he stared at the calendar.  He was so sure there would be a clue.  “Maybe there really is a coffee fueled robot.”  He stared at the blank calendar a few more seconds until it clicked.  “Wait, Hood, this is the clue. It has to be.  Who leaves a calendar blank except for highlighting one day? Not a store owner.”  Tim rustled the pages as he started flicking through the calendar.  “Maybe the clues are spread throughout the year.”  Tim scrutinized August, before turning to July.  “Coffee takes a long time to process, at least the expensive kind does,” Tim muttered under his breath.

 

“I’ll tell Oracle to message B,” Jason said.  “Have him check for any calendars at the other shops.”

 

Tim nodded, staring at a tiny winking smiley face scrawled in black marker next to ‘July’.  He paused before flipping to the next page, trying to remember how many villains were born in July, liked the month July, or were named- “Julian.” 

 

Jason turned and started.  “Calendar Man?  Makes sense. He does love the dramatic.” Jason removed his helmet and briefly held it out in an ‘ _Alas poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio_ ’ pose.

 

Tim rolled his eyes at Jason’s antics and nodded.  “Dates are important to him.  Look, in June he wrote ‘Your shipment arrived, only to return.”  Tim texted Oracle to see if there was any information on the origin of the missing coffee.  His communicator pinged a few seconds later.  “Ha! Most of the coffee was grown in Bialya, and it arrived in Gotham on June 25th.”

 

“He’s taking the coffee back to Bialya?  Might as well let him.  Good riddance.  Maybe he’ll get into a fight with Queen Bee.”

 

“I don’t think so.  That would be expensive, and I doubt it’d be showy enough for his needs.”  Tim read through additional information Barbara sent.  “Oracle found that most of the coffee arrived in shipments on piers 18 and 47.”

 

Jason pulled his helmet back on.  “Then that’s where we’re headed next.  Nice work, R.”

 

-x-

Tim arrived at Pier 18.  It was just his luck, that Calendar Man appeared to be setting up for his International Coffee Day performance here. The smell of roasted coffee filled the air, and Tim quickly texted the others while wondering how long it would be before everyone was drawn here by the over-powering smell of coffee.

 

Calendar Man wore a brown suit, with the date on his shoulder lapels, and trimmed with red coffee berries.  He had a platform set out, lit with giant spotlights, and was dumping more ground coffee into a simmering vat of liquid.

 

“Calendar Man!”  Tim shouted.  “The police know what you’ve done.  Come quietly, and you won’t make things worse for yourself.”  Supervillains almost always chose to make things worse for themselves, but Tim liked to at least give them options.

 

Calendar Man jumped in place, then peered over at him and sneered.  “Oh, it’s just a tiny side-kick?  Foolish bird, only Batman has a chance of stopping me!”  He made a shooing motion with his hands.  “Run along, little boy.”

 

“Oh hell, no,” Tim said, deciding instantly to capture the D-list villain himself instead of waiting for the others. 

 

Tim shot out his grapple, swung to the top of Calendar Man’s platform, pulled himself up, then crouched down and kicked low, to sweep the villain’s legs out from under him.

 

“Argh,” said Calendar Man, falling gracelessly onto his back with a clunk.

Tim smirked, then winced at a sharp pain in the back of his leg that suddenly demanded all his attention.  He surreptitiously rubbed his leg, then took another step, only to gasp and stumble clutching at his leg.  Of all the horrible times to get a muscle cramp.  Tim silently cursed demon spawn in his head, and also himself for forgetting to stretch after ninja death camp.  He leaned against the railing, hoping that the villain hadn’t seen.

 

No such luck.  Tim gulped as Calendar Man pulled himself to his feet, and loomed over him, an evil glint in his eyes.

 

-x-

 

“Millennials,”  Calendar Man said.  “All my problems are caused by Millennials.”

 

Tim rolled his eyes and grunted, and continued covertly working on loosening his binds.

 

“They just don’t pay attention to me like people used to,”  the villain griped, adding chocolate to his vat of boiling coffee.  “It’s fitting really, we all thought the turn of the Millennium was going to be disastrous, but what really was a disaster is all the Millennials, and their smart phones, fancy coffee, and lack of calendars.”

 

“They have calendars on their phones,”  Tim supplied helpfully.

 

“That’s even worse,” Calendar Man sneered. “They don’t really even look at calendars anymore.  That’s why I left my clues in a real calendar.”  He preened at the thought of his mystery.  “Bet it was an unsolvable mystery for a Millennial.  And they have so many more holidays now.  Coffee Day, Donut Day, Taco Day.  They worship food so they can forget time.”

 

“And that’s why you chose Coffee Day for your coffee crime?”  Tim asked.

 

“Exactly.  What better way to catch their attention than to beat them at their own game?  They want free coffee and mindless holidays?  I’ll give them a coffee day they’ll never forget!”

 

“Clever,” Tim muttered, keeping his now unbound hands hidden.  “And you are trying to remind them how much time their coffee takes to mature and be transported?”  he asked, trying to keep the villain talking until Red Hood or Batman showed up.

 

“Yes, that,”  Calendar Man said, checking his reflection.  “Mostly I plan on giving them more coffee than they can handle, and a crime so shockingly huge, that they’ll just have to pay attention.  Boiled alive by their own obsession.”  He bent down and picked Tim up by one ankle.  “And you get to be the first, aren’t you excited?”

 

“Urgh,”  Tim said, as Calendar Man stepped over to the edge of the platform, and dangled Tim over the vat of boiling coffee.  He snapped his arms free, but there wasn’t much he could do now without risking being dropped.  It was therefore time to try and talk his way out of being experimentally boiled.  “This isn’t how I expected my morning coffee,” Tim quipped.

 

“Fortunately you’re a tiny superhero,”  Calendar Man grunted with the effort of holding Tim up.  “I’ll have to find a rope and pulley for when Batman and Nightwing arrive.”  The villain glanced off into the shadows as something glinted and flashed. “Oh look, Red Robin, the media showed up.  Smile for the camera.”

 

Tim groaned and tried to ignore the pounding in his head.  Then he had an idea.  A wonderful, amazing idea that just might save his own life.  “Are you sure they’ll recognize you with your coffee-themed outfit?”  Tim asked, frowning as if deep in thought.  “They might just call you Coffee-Man.  Maybe you should change to your traditional outfit, so that everyone will instantly know it’s you.”

 

Calendar Man pursed his lips and thought for a moment.  “You’re right,” he whispered.  “Millennials are so abysmally idiotic they’ll call me Coffee-Man.  I should wear my regular costume, and just add a few coffee-themed elements.”  He brought a hand to his mouth and swung Tim back over the platform, dropping him on the ground.  “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

 

Tim had never been happier to be dropped on his head.  He struggled to a sitting position, and worked on untying his legs.

 

It was then that Batman, Robin, and Black Bat emerged from the shadows to stare up at him.  Tim almost flinched, wondering how much they had seen.

 

“Red Robin, you allowed the criminal to escape,”  Damian shouted up at Tim.

 

Tim stood up and gingerly stretched his leg.  “He’ll be back, he’s just changing his costume.” Then he limped down the stairs while Damian watched, unimpressed.  Batman and Black Bat melted into the shadows to find one Calendar Man.  Tim almost felt sorry for him.

 

Damian scowled and folded his arms.  “Have you injured yourself?  Do you require assistance?”

 

Tim wondered if it really was the end of the world if Damian almost sounded concerned.  He limped over to where his motorcycle was hidden.  “I’ll be fine.  It’s just a muscle cramp.”

 

“Tt.  You really do require more training, Red Robin.  At least sometimes you are an acceptable detective.”

 

“Gee, thanks.”  Tim rolled his eyes.  Damian _was_ trying though, so maybe he could try too.  “That’s high praise coming from you.”

 

“Your expression of gratitude is adequate,”  Damian said, turning away, chin held high. “If you are well enough to return to the cave on your own, I will assist Batman in capturing the criminal.”

 

Tim just nodded and watched Damian stalk off.  Now he really almost felt sorry for Calendar Man, except that the villain totally deserved it.

 


End file.
